


Natshila

by Jayenator565



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyguard, Clexaweek2019, Don’t copy to another site, F/F, Fluff, Free Day!, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, not this chapter at least, teeny tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayenator565/pseuds/Jayenator565
Summary: The 100 that came down were the generation before Clarke's. She had only heard stories of their sacrifice and bravery so that the Skaikru could survive in the new world under Heda Aleksander. After being adopted by the very Trikru that were their enemies and with the shadow of the Mountain behind them, Clarke must find her place in this new era of peace.





	1. Chapter 1

_**-September 13, 2149-** _

 

The sun was relentless that morning. Sitting high in its throne in the sky at the peak of the day. The midday meal would be soon and Polis was more than aware. Already the smells from the outdoor market were wafting up towards the hidden valley from the capital city below. Despite this, she remained in the heat, ignorant to the smells and remained transfixed on the sight in front of her. 

 

The Natblida. The chosen few. Children born with the blood of the past Commanders flowing through their veins. Everyone knew them or at least knew of them. The generation that would be raised and trained to one day take on the mantle of Heda. They stood before her now. She was hardly seven years old and she watched, awestruck, as the children barely older than herself moved with a grace and skill she could only ever hope to possess. Her two years of training couldn’t hold a candle to the obviously complicated regiment they were carrying out under the Fleimkepa’s watchful eyes.

 

Her nontu, Ryder, had let her stay with him for the day after their early morning training had ended. More often than not she was with her other father, Nyko, in the healing tents. Helping him crush herbs and sterilize new bandages. Mostly, that was because Ryder was gone. It was rare for him to be home for more than two weeks at a time and she had wanted to spend more time with him. As one of the Commander’s personal guards, he was almost always watching over either Heda or the Natblidas before them. When he was away Nyko oversaw a lot of her training along with their close friend, Anya. 

 

Her nontu smirked down at her, noticing how transfixed and impressed she seemed by their movements, and reached down to pat her gently on the shoulder, “Ai yongon, one day with enough training you too may be as great as they are.”

 

She scoffed and swatted his hand away playfully, “Maybe in a bajillion years.”

 

Seeming to notice the interaction, one of the younger Natblidas lifted their eyes away from their partner as they were going through a practiced attack and defense type of formation. The two girls eyes met for a second before a staff came down heavy, unaware their partner was no longer focused. 

 

The green-eyed Natblida reacted quickly, but not fast enough to stop her forehead from being grazed by the sharp edge of the bamboo staff. The tiniest bead of her night blood dripped along the shallow line where the staff had brushed against her skin. His daughter gasped and rushed off, Ryder hot on her tail, as the Natblida all stopped and watched the young girl pull some cotton out of her pouch and some red paste as she dabbed gently against what was hardly a scratch with the utmost care. 

 

Titus was quick to get the rest of them back in line, and Ryder was sure he would give a good talking to him for having his daughter here later. In the meantime, they both looked on as his daughter grinned brightly at the Commander’s own niece while placing a small adhesive bandage to cover the cut. 

 

_**-November 3, 2159-** _

  
  


She remembers now and then. Her life before the death of her birth parents. The moments leading up to that day. She remembers in noises, in the things she felt, the smells, but mostly she remembers in her dreams, or rather her nightmares. She remembers the sounds of fighting, all the blood beneath her toes. She had become intimately aware of the fact that blood smelled almost overwhelmingly of copper. Most of all she remembers the screams, the groaning and right now the screams she was hearing were very different from the ones she was used to. 

 

“ _ Skrish _ .” jumping up she realized the reason why she didn’t recognize the screams was because they weren’t coming from her dream, rather from the room down the hall. She grabbed the sword from beside her bed and sprinted out the bedroom, hardly mindful of the blue nightgown she was wearing. It would have to do. There was only one other person with a room on this floor, and if they were screaming then she may have already failed. Just five steps away now. No guards, not even Gustus outside but the room’s doors were wide open. She took a deep breath, steps still fast but sword at the ready. Silence would have to be her friend. Her muscles were poised, taut, and more than ready to strike as she was trained to do. 

 

Sneaking around the corner she took advantage of the fact that the one silhouette she spotted wasn’t facing her. She pulled back her sword in her left hand and almost struck before her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she noticed the familiar neck tattoos that she had grown up seeing almost every day of her life. She breathed easier, knocking her elder on the elbow with her fist, their common greeting. Gustus turned to her with a raised brow at the sword and a glint of pride in his eyes. She had snuck up on him, he hadn’t even heard her enter the room. 

 

“And who is this?”

 

The steel in that voice was unmistakable and Clarke recognized it instantly. Gustus turned quickly and subtly nudged Clarke out from behind him, “Moba Heda, em's Klark soulou.” indicating to his Commander that it was just Clarke.

 

Clarke remembered enough to bow her head despite the nerves she now found wracking her body, “Heda,” Here she is standing in front of the leader of the kongeda dressed in nothing but a long top that was more of a wrap than anything, something she always wears for bed. Even worse, Heda was wearing a simple grey sleeveless top...and nothing else as far as the young warrior could tell. 

 

It wasn’t the first time she and the Commander had met, on the contrary, still, it was probably the most skin from the Commander that she had ever been privy to. She could feel the piercing eyes of her Heda examining her, most likely puzzling out her sudden appearance. 

 

“Klark was sleeping in the rooms reserved for the Natshila…?”, The Commander’s quick deduction made sense after all those were the closest rooms to Heda’s own and was really the only explanation for how fast Clarke entered upon hearing a disturbance. The question was directed at Gustus but if there was one thing the young warrior was still learning it was the art of not speaking unless one was spoken to in the presence of those with higher ranks. 

“Sha Heda, Gustus has taken me as his second.” 

 

The man in question glanced at his protege in agitation but he quickly turned sheepish after meeting Lexa’s eyes.

 

“Oh really? And Gustus, when were you planning on letting me know of this new information?”

 

Clarke witnessed as Gustus, easily twice the size of the half dressed girl addressing him, humbled himself in apology, “It was not my intention to keep it from you Heda, it happened while you were away on your trip to the Plain Riders and the people of Blue Cliff.”

 

It was as good an excuse as any, Lexa had only been back two days from the trips to visit with the leaders of the most outlying clans. It was obvious to those who had studied her and watched her, those close to her, that the trip had been exhausting. Piled on top of the endless meetings she had to catch up on with all she had missed in Polis during her trip, it would make sense for Gustus to prioritize other matters over informing Lexa of his new role as a mentor. 

 

Lexa merely blinked her understanding of his news and nodded. “Congratulations Klark, Gustus is a great teacher.”

 

Clarke eagerly agreed, “Sha, I am greatly honored to have been chosen to be trained by him.” 

 

As green eyes met blue they seemed caught in a long stare. To Clarke it was almost like Lexa was trying to gauge the sincerity behind her words. There were a few moments pause, utter silence until they both noticed Gustus slightly shift his weight from one foot to the other. Clearing her throat Lexa raised her chin effectively breaking their quiet conversation and waved towards her guard, “You may go Gustus, thank you for checking on me.” 

 

It was only his years of practised stoicism that kept his brows from raising in surprise. With one last bow he turned and exited the room, Gustus was smarter than to question why his Heda seemed to want to talk to his second at this time of night. 

 

And then there were two. 

 

“Heda I-”

 

“You always expressed a great joy and talent as a fisa under your nontu, Nyko, why the sudden change?”

 

Lexa cocked her head, trying to understand Clarke’s motives and the blonde found she couldn’t hold her gaze for too much longer.

 

“Heda, I think we both know the political weight that went behind my adoption into Trikru...” 

 

Most everyone knew actually. Her adoption happened after the Azgeda siege of Arkadia that left Abby and Jake Griffin dead, and Thelonious as the new Chancellor. Thelonious was a man who was once openly outspoken against the grounder’s ways. Only a great show of faith would prove to then Commander Aleksander that Skaikru would remain loyal to the coalition. The newly orphaned four year old Clarke, the beloved daughter of the former chancellor Jake Griffin and Dr. Abby Griffin, darling of Arkadia, one of their first births since reaching the ground. She made a fine peace offering indeed along with his own youngest son, the last reminder of his late wife, Wells Jaha. Both were taken in by those warriors most loyal to Heda Aleksander. 

 

Clarke to Nyko the Commander’s personal healer and his houmon Ryder a Natshila himself, and Wells to Indra the upcoming General of the Trikru to be raised alongside her daughter, Gaia. 

 

Lexa merely raised a brow as if to tell Clarke to continue, so she did, “Wells being adopted by Indra was both a test and a guarantee that Chancellor Jaha would not betray the coalition. With Trikru being the closest clan able to keep them in line should fighting occur and Wells now being trained as a captain of the Trikru forces, to go against the coalition would mean most certainly meeting his own son in combat. Jaha would not so foolishly risk the life of his favorite son.”

 

“As for me, of course, I could take the path of healer, like nontu, but the role of Natshila will allow me to more fully serve our people. Like Wells, it would put me in a position of harm should Skaikru attempt to rebel...but it also would not do for Wanheda to be confined to an infirmary. Your advisors and the ambassadors very much remember the trouble Skaikru caused when they landed about a thirty years ago. You need me to be seen from a place of great strength as I was when we planned against the Mountain, firmly on your side. The Natshilakru are regarded and trained to be the best warriors of the coalition. And if anything, my additional medical knowledge is a great advantage which can be used to better protect you.”

 

It went unspoken but not unknown between them that, if not for Clarke’s legacy from the destruction of Mount Weather and the great acclaim the coalition had bestowed upon the seventeen year old girl, she would have gladly stayed as a healer by Nyko’s side. The title of Wanheda, as much as it garnered her respect, also put a target on her head. As far as the people knew she must have been a great warrior as strong as the tales of the spirits themselves to cause such a massacre. The leaders of the other clans either wanted to pledge their loyalty or kill her before she had a chance to usurp Heda herself. 

 

As a Natshila, one that pledged an unbreakable vow to the Commander, it would show the coalition publicly that Clarke stood by Lexa and their hard fought peace. Something just being a healer would not have achieved. 

 

The entire time she spoke Lexa’s eyes did not once leave her face, carefully going over every twitch, every blink, as if searching for something. What, Clarke did not know but after a time she seemed to have found it. The left side of her lips raised, just for a few seconds, but long enough for Clarke to confirm that yes, that was indeed a small smile. 

 

“Has anyone ever told you,” Lexa began as she extracted herself from her sheets and walked towards the now stunned warrior, “that you have a good mind for politics?”

Clarke swallowed, valiantly keeping her eyes on Lexa’s nose, any lower than that and she was sure to lose composure. What was one to do when faced with that much _leg_? She is sure Raven, if she were here, would whistle and mumble something unbecoming of the Commander’s guard under her breath. 

 

Clarke never thought she was much of a leg girl before but she may start to reconsider. Of course the Commander would pick now to have her notice that legs of all things were far more attractive than she had initially believed.  

 

“Um, Indra and Anya have mentioned it on occasion...as have you, Heda”, suddenly very interested in the fox fur on the ground, Clarke nearly jumped when Lexa’s bare feet came into her line of view. 

 

“This is what I choose, for my people. For our people, Heda.” She missed the way Lexa’s eyes softened in a fondness very rarely seen from the other girl. 

 

“Yes it is what you have chosen but, it is hardly what you want.” Clarke took a deep breath at the truth that rang through her with that statement. It is true that killing was not something she was fond of. She was good at it, she would not have the name wanheda if she was not, but her skill hardly outweighed the great burden she now carried in her soul.

 

“I want to do what’s best for our people, for the coalition-”

 

“This path Klark is not an easy one, your entire life will be devoted to my protection. Think of your other nontu. Think of how little you and Nyko have seen him over the years. That will be your life. Gustus was away when his houmon birthed him twins, in fact, he missed out on their first few months of life because of the campaign Heda Aleksander was on at the time.”

 

Clarke was very much aware of all these things, and was sure Lexa knew she knew. There had to be a reason though for Lexa to mention all this. Heda never wasted words on meaningless things. 

 

“...I know of your visits with Nyko to Skaikru whenever he goes for his weekly meetings with Jackson, the head healer...your birth mother’s previous mentee.” Clarke took a sharp breath at the reminder of her parents, Lexa’s voice never wavered but softened a fraction as if sensing that Clarke’s composure was on a precipice

 

“Klark I know of the Skaikru friends you have made. You will no longer have the time you once had to connect with your old people and the memories they hold of your birth parents in this new role.”

 

Clarke really tried not to, but it was almost as if she herself did not realize that the reason she insisted on accompanying Nyko was for more than just the pursuit of medical knowledge and learning the culture she should have been raised in. Almost every single member of Skaikru, at least the older generation and even some younger ones as her mom had probably seen to everyone in Arkadia for treatments at least once, had a connection to her parents that she did not. 

 

From Jackson and Raven to Bellamy and Octavia his sister, a sickly baby that her mother had personally seen to for years until her immune system grew strong. Not to mention Thelonious, Sinclair, Cally and Kane. Her parents best friends. They always made sure to share with her old stories of her and her parents whenever she visited. 

 

“That is the price I must pay, Heda. My birth parents as much as I love them are dead. The dead are gone, the living are hungry.”

 

Recognizing her own Fos’ words brought a quick grin to the Commander’s face, “You want to serve in the greatest capacity that you can and you have proven yourself more than willing to protect me, even from my night terrors. I respect your decision Klark and I look forward to having you beside me.”

 

Lexa stepped back suddenly, as if just realizing their close proximity, “You should get back to bed, I’m sure Gustus will have you up early for training.”

 

Clarke let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and bowed her head, “Mochof.”

 

She made her way towards the door, hearing the rustling of furs as the Commander settled into her bed. Before she could think better of it she turned, Lexa’s eyes immediately finding her own before giving a small smile of her own, “Reshop Heda.”

 

“Goodnight Klark.”

 

_**-March 3, 2160-** _

  
  


It was hard to stifle the smirk threatening to light up her face after her admittedly slow pass through the Commander’s private chambers, “All clear Heda.”

 

“I’ll bet it is,” the grumbled snark from her companion was something Clarke had gotten quickly endeared with over the last two years. 

 

“What was that Commander? Is someone still grumpy I threw them down during our skirmish? Why that would be unbecoming of the leader of all thirteen clans,” Clarke’s air of playful mockery had the desired effect as Lexa both smiled and rolled her eyes at her Natshila’s antics. 

 

“Don’t worry Heda, I’ll make sure none of the city singers hear of your epic downfall.”

 

“Oh how could I ever repay you,” the sarcasm was hardly lost on Clarke as Lexa began to take off her gloves and outer jacket. 

 

The Commander didn’t even flinch as her guard came up behind to help untie some of her tighter plaits. Letting someone do one’s hair was one of the greatest shows of trust among warriors. Lexa wasn’t entirely sure if Clarke understood the meaning behind the ease in which Lexa allowed herself to relax in the blonde’s presence. 

 

The brush of fingers against the back of her neck brought Lexa out of her musings enough that she uttered a stern, “Clarke,” under her breath. She was aware that Clarke was far too close not to notice the trail of goosebumps that extended from her touch.

 

As relaxed as she was she could practically sense the mischievous energy still flowing off the Natshila in waves, “I can think of a few ways you could repay me,” Clarke practically crooned into her ear. 

 

“ _ Clarke. _ ”

 

“ _ Lexa. _ ”

 

“Do I really need to remind you about Anya’s teachings on mockery?”, Slowly Lexa turned her neck, just enough to see the sly grin she already knew was on Clarke’s lips. 

The slant of her neck, the almost doe-eyed appearance with nothing but the candlelight to highlight her features. If Clarke wasn’t bi before...One small step is all it would take to cross the imaginary boundary they had put in place themselves. To feel the press of Lexa’s back against her chest. She wondered what it would feel like, with Lexa’s muscles rippling under her fingers. 

 

Now was hardly the time for such thoughts. Instead, she carded her fingers through the delicate loose strands of brown hair she had managed to undo. Feeling the silkiness of the Commander’s hair and hearing Lexa’s soft sighs as she worked out the few tangles there, would be enough for her. It had to be.


	2. Chapter 2

“Not sure if you guys noticed but _Heda_ is, just a tad different from _Wanheda_. Now I can see how you could get confused, Commander of the Blood, Commander of Death. There’s a few similarities I’ll give you that, but as you can see you’ve clearly gone and taken the wrong Commander. You guys do know Heda right-”

Clarke didn’t have time to prepare for the blow that struck the side of her mouth, mostly because she hadn’t seen where it had come from. Her head lolled back dangerously from the force it. A solid kick right to her jaw with the heel of a metal studded boot. Taking stock she spit out the blood that had accumulated from where she bit into the side of her cheek and the blood pouring from just under her eye, snorting in amusement. Gus always did say she would look more intimidating with a few more scars.

“As I was saying,” she continued as nonchalantly as if she wasn’t being held captive by enemies for who even knows how long. She had just come to, and aside from the concussion she was sure was blooming from the pounding in her head, there wasn’t much Clarke could gather from where they were.

It was still morning last she could recall. She and Gustus had just escorted Lexa to the outer village a few miles east of Polis, where the Commander had been called to investigate a weird parasite that had gotten into the food storage house. Clarke had personally gone to collect their three horses from the stables and then...nothing. That trip was made just two candle marks after their morning meal and currently, it seemed as though the moon was getting ready to leave for another new day. Clarke must have been unconscious for some twenty hours at least.

“I don’t know if you know this, but she is going to be very upset at me when I get back to Polis. So you know if your goal was to cause me some minor irritation and a Commander sized talking to, you’ve definitely accomplished that.”

The man closest to her scoffed, “Shof em op.” From what she could tell he was the leader, the others seemed to look to him for reactions to anything she said. At least two others were patrolling by the edge of the small camp they had made. She had seen their bodies as their rotations around camp brought them close to the fire. Then there were only two others to worry about, the hothead somewhere behind her right shoulder that had kicked her and one last one standing by the leader. The one he had just ordered to quiet her. 

She cocked her head, this one seemed different or at the very least younger than the others she had caught glimpses of. Their body was more slight, armorless fitted and their face was covered from the bottom up to their nose and wrapped around the top of their head. It was hard to tell if they were male or female from looks alone. The only skin really peaking out was the space from their nose to their eyes. Thankfully that was all Clarke needed to see because their eyes were filled with the kind of fear and reverence she knew preceded those that heard of her legends and believed in them. 

The legend of Wanheda was not something she particularly cherished or liked at all but she knew better than to deny the strength that could come from the fear she had garnered. 

She tested it later, when it was his turn to give her a sip of water she kept her expression as blank as possible and stared intently, not letting him look towards her without meeting her piercing blue eyes. In a matter of a few minutes she had completely unnerved the poor fool. He did everything he could to avoid even getting near to her. Every sneeze, every tick of her brow, every inhale just a tad too loud had his eyes shooting towards her and then flinching away. 

Those first two days she made sure to never stop talking, never shut up. Making up names and stories as much as her brain could manage despite the fact that they were slowly starving her. Maybe hoping she’d finally quit on an empty stomach and preserve her energy. Unfortunately for them that wasn’t part of her plan.

“So Heda walks up to me and you know what she says?”

As usual any of her questions were met with their ire more than anything else, though two of them still listened to her intently. One out of fear, the other, oh he was her target. She didn’t know how long she’d been knocked out for sure but they had been traveling for at least five days now. Not that anyone could tell, they had hardly advanced north which Clarke was sure would be their final destination. Their poor attempts at pretending to be heading towards Blue Cliff or even the Plain riders were wasted. Lexa would never believe this was done by anyone other than Azgeda branwadas. Not that Lexa would come after her anyway. Heda has far more important matters to tend to. Her fathers might try, not Ryder, he couldn’t leave Lexa’s side especially when they were down a Natshila but maybe Nyko had gotten a group together. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to get to her alone or- shit, he just might be. 

That sixth night it was finally time. She had their rotations and guard shift memorized. Plus they were on the cusp of crossing definitively into Azgeda territory. She would have liked to wait longer, plant the seed more firmly, but she couldn’t risk being surrounded by enemy hostiles on their own stomping grounds. She may be good but she wasn’t arrogant enough to think she was that good. If they managed to meet up with an encampment of Azgeda soldiers she knew her chances at escape would be so slim taking her own life would prove the better option. And she quite liked her life, kidnappings aside. 

This far into the journey, while still cautious the group herding her away from Polis had become lax in some ways. Every time she needed to relieve herself they had to undo the shackles on her arms so she could pull down her own pants as well as the ropes that tied her legs together and every time she would tense her legs just a bit more. It was small but enough that by tonight, when she lay on the floor every muscle in her leg relaxed, the usual bulge of her calf muscle flattened, she would have just enough space to wriggle her way out. She’d still be noticed if she tried that now, but it was a calculated risk. Two members were patrolling the area, the hothead that had abused her any chance he got with punches and kicks, coincidentally the one who slept the heaviest, had been passed out for the last half hour now on the other side of the campfire leaving her with the younger one who bought into her legend and the older leader of the group. 

She just had to be patient a little longer. Feigning sleep she heard the two guards patrolling nearer to their small camp again only to fan out once more. In about eleven minutes they would be at their furthest point from the camp before doubling back towards them. Four minutes later she heard the leader excuse himself for the bathroom, leaving her with the youngest and most affected of their group. He had no reason not to, after all Clarke was supposed to be asleep and the two guards were still within yelling distance. Despite that, this was her best chance.

They had taken her Natshila jacket while she was unconscious that held the most of her daggers. What they didn’t take was her boots and in her boots she always made sure to have one light blade concealed in the inner stitching like Anya had shown her. She would have to take her out for a drink of thanks later. The ropes around her legs restricted her movement to the extent that she couldn’t bend her legs up to her hands far enough to reach inside her boot and get the knife, but now with some give in the ropes she might just be able to do it. 

She was already laying on her left side, facing the camp. She pressed down flexing only her left leg into the hard earth beneath her while sliding her right leg up slowly. She withheld a smile, feeling the rope move lower from her calf to just above her right heel. At this point her right leg was almost at a 90-degree angle.

The boy hadn’t noticed yet, content in the fact that she was supposed to be asleep he was busy using his knife to whittle away at the log he sat on. Good, but there was no way he wouldn’t notice her next movement. She had to fling her upper body off the ground and twist her torso enough so that her bound hands could reach her right boot which was now much closer with the rope almost over her heel. He would notice, but she prayed his fear would be enough to paralyze the inexperienced warrior for a moment. She’s stunned battle worn men just by looking at them, seeing the very thing they fear on the verge of escape, she hoped the shock would buy her as many seconds as she would need to get free. She just needed this one moment, and she had it.

With a deep inhale she tensed and lifted her upper body utilizing her abdominals to swiftly twist and grab the blade, cleanly slicing her leg ropes and deftly using her fingers to flip the knife at an angle to catch the ropes around her wrist as well. A slight knick just on her palm was what she had to show for her efforts, but now she was free. She quickly turned onto her knees in a crouch and caught the eye of the young guard whose mouth was gaping even as he tried to reach over to his friend, the hotheaded one.

A shake of her head was all it took to make him freeze, terrified. Using her right hand she made a shushing motion and with her left, Clarke flung her blade without moving her eyes from the guard’s and did not have to look to see her target had hit its mark. The gurgling of the guard’s companion choking on his own blood as her blade lodged into his throat was confirmation enough. One down. 

By now the younger guard was blubbering, tears leaking from their eyes but they had their hand over their mouth knowing Wanheda wouldn’t be happy if any noise escaped. Quick learner at least. She strode over to him, crouching down and breathing out a sigh. Tugging the wrap from their face she was met with the terror of a young girl, barely any older than Aden. The thought sickened her. Was Nia really so desperate for blood to fill her armies?

With a sharp breath out she struck her closed fist on top the girl’s head and watched as the body dropped like a rag doll. She would have a nasty headache but perhaps there was still a chance for her to make a better life for herself. Grabbing her blade from the now dead guard, throwing in a hard twist with her tug just to be sure, Clarke ran without another look back.

\--

She rode tirelessly, relentlessly with Ryder by her side. Gustus, ever the sensible one seemed even more frazzled than they did. Artigas and Rivo, ever loyal as their companions grew more agitated and thoughtless took up the deed of keeping watch. Keeping the three safe as they followed their enemy. The trail was made to trick them at many points but Gustus had been a scout long before he fell into the Commander’s service. He would not be fooled by fake hoof prints and wading through streams. 

His eyes were like an eagle’s, sharp and never failing. Even so their enemy still had a day’s advantage and though there may be one or two of them set to fool any that follow, those with Clarke were no doubt only pausing for brief rests before continuing on. Pushing their horses to the limits. Knowing this it was hard to deter the father and the teacher, yet even harder to try and bring Heda to a pause. But Rivo knew, they would be no help to Clarke fueled only by anger. They too needed rest and food. 

As he brought the rations they had quickly gathered before leaving and presented the bowl to his Heda he could not help but notice the furrow etched through her usual stoicism. Clarke is one of them, they would get her back. The fleimkepas would be less than pleased but they often tended to look past the value held in a human life. The bonds and emotions and soul within each of them was a precious thing. Just as Lexa was chosen to hold the sacred fleim, Clarke was chosen to serve and protect Lexa. The natshilas lives forever entwined with Heda’s.

The commander looked up then at his offering of food and nodded in thanks with a slight smile. She could tell how much Rivo and Artigas were working to keep them all safe and level-headed. She would always appreciate her natshilas. She treated them not as merely bodies to put between her and death but as her own family. Her ways were kinder, her actions more impassioned, and none of it took away from her strength. That was why he as well as any other natshila would gladly go above and beyond giving their lives for hers. 

As they had for the last few days they ate in silence, Artigas and Ryder, up in the trees. They would eat once Gustus and Rivo had finished and napped. In just under an hour when the horses were also sufficiently rested and watered they continued on not knowing that after days of searching, Clarke would be the one to find them. 

\--

“Oh for float’s sake.” Clarke cursed under her breath in frustration. Blood from a gash on her forehead had leaked into her right eye making it basically worthless. She knew she wouldn’t get too far on injured legs that hadn’t seen used in days but she still kind of hoped for a bit of a reprieve before she had to fight for her life. As it was she ran into a straggler, the last person she was expecting but then it made sense that they would sacrifice a person to try and make any pursuers have that much more of a hard time in tracking them. 

Thankfully fighting did not seem to be his forte. He leapt, she sidestepped and elbowed his back, sending him into the ground in one motion. The next second his throat was slit and she was on her way again. 

That was about thirty minutes ago according to her dad’s watch. Now here she was with no boots and no protective jacket armor, staring down one very angry warrior. Their leader. The two scouts he brought with him had both struck out at her preemptively not waiting for his plan and had already paid the price. Not before one got a good knick in as she narrowly dodged a thrown dagger with a wicked jagged set of teeth. That would have left a scar for sure if she had been just a bit slower. 

Armed with only a blade, limited sight and feeling the adrenaline start to wear off, against the one experienced warrior left of the bunch, Clarke did the only thing she could think of. She began to talk.

“Ok so, I know you’re kind of pissed right now-”

He was practically growling at her for the losses of his men, well it’s not like she asked to get kidnapped. He lunged forward, drawing a large broad sword from his side and Clarke had to tumble away before he could cleave her in half with it. 

“Look,” She grunted out, still winded from the last few minutes of fighting, “this has been fun really. A grand ol’ time. I kind of have a job to get back to, I’m sure my boss isn’t too pleased about the unintended vacation time so how about we just walk away from this. You can go back, or actually don’t, she won’t be too happy to see you return empty-handed-”

She dove behind the nearest bush she could find as he charged at her with his sword pointed right for her chest, “Yeah you weren’t really much of a talker back when I was a hostage either.” He kept on her tail, but her stature and speed was just enough to keep her out of range of his swings. It wouldn’t last. Clarke was tired before this unseemly dance for her life and he must have noticed. Swinging as if to cleave her in half again Clarke barely registered when he let go of the blade handle with his right hand, using the left to quickly follow up with a backswing. She rolled to the right with the strike but could not avoid getting sliced through her shirt. The warm rush of blood came before she registered the pain but even so she had to keep going. She would assess her injuries after she was out of the woods. Both figuratively and literally. 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let this day pass without a fic and my own little addition to Clexa week 2019. I always love seeing the fandom come together and make new content no matter how big or small. Big thanks to clexaweekofficial and clexabookmarks for helping us wrangle these fics, moodboards, artworks just everything together every time. You guys rock!


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